


just come home

by restlesswriting



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: But I Edited It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Humor, Hurt/Comfort, I MADE A MISTAKE, M/M, Not Beta Read, Ugh, and also present tense, but it's midnight and my brain is running on fumes, hongjoong's really protective of his laptop, i kind of have others in the works but idk if i'll get round to writing them, i made a stylistic choice and it's all in small caps this time, might have errors, seonghwa's just clumsy, still i hope you enjoy this short story, that's basically the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24339001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlesswriting/pseuds/restlesswriting
Summary: ever since the incident with the infamous thief (“chris are you watching?”), there are only a handful of people allowed to touch hongjoong’s laptop. seonghwa’s one of them and he’s about to get his rights revoked.and that’s only if hongjoong doesn’t kill him first for deleting that remix he was working on for weeks.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 6
Kudos: 119
Collections: Seongjoong Week 2020





	just come home

in normal circumstances, a sweep and mop is enough to get rid of built-up dirt, but when you’re living with seven other people… well, let’s just say seonghwa wants to be a little more thorough. 

sure, his four-step routine (lint roller, vacuum, wet tissue, lint roller again) might be a little more time consuming, maybe borderline excessive even, but he would rather be safe than sorry. 

and his members know better than to protest or give him shit for it - seonghwa is not above boycotting cleaning their rooms out of spite. all things considered, letting them stew in their own filth is a terrific punishment since they always cave and let him have his way after the fifth day.

which brings him to his current predicament.

see, despite getting the green light from hongjoong, seonghwa rarely touches the other’s laptop. so, of course, the one time he tries to move the computer out of the way of his lint roller, he manages to delete all of hongjoong’s hard work. cursing his luck, seonghwa flies into panic mode, rushing to scan through the folders. 

with every one that he clicks through, his hope of finding past saves of hongjoong’s remix dwindles.

seonghwa groans loudly, tilting his head back in exasperation when it’s clear that he’s going to come up empty. _damn it hongjoong, why aren’t you like the rest who have backups of their backups?_

he’s in the middle of puzzling out how to break the news gently when he hears a throat being cleared. “uh, not that i mind, but why were you looking through my laptop with a crazed look in your eyes?” hongjoong questions.

“how long have you been standing at the doorway?” seonghwa responds, clutching his chest. 

“long enough to see you typing away frantically,” hongjoong says, swaying into the room to retrieve the device. “give it here.” as hongjoong nears, seonghwa snaps into action, hauling his ass up from the chair that he’d been seated snugly on and lifting the laptop above his head, safely out of reach.

hongjoong swipes at open air angrily. even on tiptoes, hongjoong’s still _tiny_. seonghwa wants to laugh at the sight but squashes the urge because _this is not the time_. “i need to finish the remix, seonghwa. please.”

“okay, i’ll return it to you on one condition,” seonghwa promises. “you have to hear me out first.”

“fine, just hurry it up. i just need to insert the snares and i’m done,” huffs hongjoong, impatience leaking through his voice. 

caught off-guard, seonghwa freezes at hongjoong’s admission. he knows that the younger had spent weeks working the track, but didn’t know it was that close to being completed.

“well?” hongjoong prompts, right eyebrow disappearing into his bangs. 

seonghwa swallows the lump in his throat and forces himself to speak up. “imighthavedeletedyourremixbyaccident.”

hongjoong squints. “if you want me to understand, you’re going to have to slow down a little or do you need me to drag it out of you?”

“i might have deleted your remix,” seonghwa confesses reluctantly, eyes squeezed tightly shut. “it’s a complete accident, i swear! i was just trying to move it out of the way because our room is getting messy, and i pressed a button by mistake and the programme quit on me!”

after a minute of painful silence, seonghwa carefully opens one eye to check if hongjoong’s face is pulled into a grimace or clouded over in anger. however, what greets him is far worse - the other boy is staring off into the distance, expression blank, not a peep out of his mouth.

“please say something,” seonghwa looks at hongjoong beseechingly. he leaves the laptop on the desk to tug at the other’s hoodie instead. “i’m sorry. is there anything i can do to help?”

hongjoong pins him down with a flat stare. seonghwa winces away, thinking he’s about to get a slap on the forehead for his irrefutable fuck up, yet the hit never comes. the other only leans in to snatch the computer before making for the exit, silent and swift, like a storm on the verge of breaking. 

and something in seonghwa just shatters as he watches hongjoong’s retreating back hopelessly, knowing that he can’t even help to pick up the pieces.

because hongjoong has already decided to lock him out.

* * *

“has anyone seen or heard from hongjoong?” seonghwa calls from the bathroom. he’s been trying his best to get rid of the dirt stuck in the grout, scrubbing it for hours on end. 

“he texted to say that he’s going to crash at his studio for a few days, why?” mingi shouts loudly from the hallway.

“nothing, it’s fine,” seonghwa responds, making sure to raise his voice slightly to be heard over the din of running water.

yeosang bursts into the bathroom. “it’s not nothing, you’ve been stress cleaning since morning. did you even sleep?” he gestures to the dark circles under seonghwa’s eyes.

san squashes through. “sorry, i know that you’re trying to work out your feelings, but i really need to use the washroom, i’ve needed to pee like 2 hours ago.”

seonghwa splutters, heat rising to his face. “i. am not working on my feelings.”

“sure, and i don’t have to go.” san crosses his arms, staring down at seonghwa. “so, why’re you moping?”

“don’t you have to go?” seonghwa stands, joints popping from squatting over a long period of time. 

“answer the question or i’ll lock you in with san,” yeosang threatens.

san nods along in agreement, before it sinks in. “wait, what?” he squawks.

“you know me, i’ll do it,” yeosang squints at seonghwa as if daring him to choose otherwise.

seonghwa slumps against their sink, putting his gloved hands up in defeat. he was still holding on to a bar of soap, and it makes for quite a sight. “if you must know, i couldn’t sleep because i deleted hongjoong’s track by accident, you know the one. now he has to restart everything from scratch because there weren’t any past saves.”

san whistles lowly. “wow shit.”

yeosang shoots san a glare. “not helping.” then looks back at a petulant seonghwa. “have you apologised?”

“what do you take me for?” seonghwa asks glumly, returning the soap to its rightful holder. “he still left.”

“have you tried approaching it from a different angle then? like plying him with his favourite food or whatever,” yeosang sighs. he watches as seonghwa’s eyes light up at the suggestion. “yes, yes, no need to thank me, i already know that i’m brilliant.”

seonghwa laughs at that, weight slightly lifted off his shoulders. hongjoong must be starving too, if he’d locked himself up since last night. he has to give it up for yeosang, it’s kind of the perfect plan.

he can’t even find it in himself to feel disgusted when san interrupts the moment. “listen, i love you guys, but my bladder’s about to burst... unless you want to be here?” 

seonghwa makes eye contact with yeosang and slips off his gloves. he tosses them at san carelessly. they land square on his face, the resounding slap reverberating in the small bathroom. 

for a second, san stands, gobsmacked then proceeds to shriek his head off. “i can’t believe. you! get back here!” yeosang and seonghwa dodge out of san’s clutches, cackling madly as they made their way to safety.

* * *

the instant his vocal lessons wrapped, seonghwa puts yeosang’s plan into action, zipping off to the nearest baskin robbins for ice-cream. 

but that had been a good fifteen minutes ago. now, he’s back and standing in front of hongjoong’s studio, heart racing, skin clammy, the frozen treats melting slightly in their cups. 

try as he might, he can’t bring himself to knock on the door.

“seonghwa?” wooyoung materialises beside him. caught off guard, seonghwa jumps in surprise. “is everything okay? do you need hongjoong?”

“yes,” seonghwa lifts up the cups. “i heard that he’s been cooped up here, so i thought i’d bring him a pick-me-up.”

his anxiety abates, just a smidge, now that there’s someone standing beside him. with his hands still locked around the cups, he tries for a tentative knock. there’s no response, not even the barest hint of a note or the swoosh of a chair on the floor.

“hongjoong?” seonghwa calls, knocking again, uncaring of how desperate he must look.

because he is. desperate. to patch things up.

“are you in there? i have ice-cream.” seonghwa tries once more, praying that hongjoong rises to the bait.

wooyoung waits with him. when it becomes apparent that not even sweets could tempt hongjoong from abandoning his fort, he breathes out, slightly annoyed. he understands that hongjoong is the leader, has more responsibilities than the average human, but dislikes the fact that he works so much.

and looks for aid even less, stubborn to a point.

“here, take these.” seonghwa spins to face wooyoung, shoving the cups to his chest agitatedly. his mask slips for real, a scowl marring his face before it smoothes out. “share them with whoever’s in the agency.”

“wai- seonghwa!” wooyoung calls, jogging after him. 

seonghwa looks back at wooyoung ruefully. “it’s fine, i think he’s busy. i’ll try swinging by later during dinner.”

wooyoung hesitates. “if you’re sure…” 

“i’m sure.” seonghwa says firmly as he walks away.

but deep down, his chest constricts painfully, heart feeling like pure lead.

* * *

with every passing day, seonghwa’s less convinced that he can drag hongjoong out of his domain. he’s brought out all the stops, bringing and sometimes even personally cooking hongjoong’s favourites.

there was even an americano tossed into the mix, for heaven’s sake - something that he was opposed to giving in the first few days, lest hongjoong takes that as encouragement to continue living his cryptid life.

as the food options decrease, the stress increases in turn. is hongjoong even alive and breathing at this point? seonghwa’s been trying to deliver food for the past three days, for all three meals!

(his members say he’s whipped, but he’s concerned, okay, merely concerned.)

so it ends up stinging when mingi announces that he ran into hongjoong. “he’s looked better, but he’s alive. he took a small breather and i convinced him to share my noodles before he went back to work.”

“right,” seonghwa responds sullenly. is it only him that hongjoong avoids like the plague then? must be because he deleted hongjoong’s work. stupid fucking fingers.

“you could try again, this evening? he looks less tense, so it’s likely he’ll wrap up soon,” mingi offers, noticing just how tense seonghwa is.

“tenth time’s the charm, right?” seonghwa asks, unable to keep the bitterness out of his tone.

and that’s how he finds himself outside of the studio’s door on a quiet saturday. nobody else was around, just him and their leader, who’s currently barricaded himself. 

even though he doesn’t have high hopes, he’s still determined to feed hongjoong to an extent. so he’s brought a cup of instant noodles to cook whenever hongjoong deigns to come out from hiding.

he decides to try with a soft knock. “hongjoong.” 

no response.

“hongjoong, seriously, it’s been four days.” seonghwa starts to hammer in earnest now. “i will break down this door, don’t test me.”

“why won’t you let me apologise?” seonghwa whines, gripping onto the knob and twisting. unsurprisingly, it doesn’t give. “i know i fucked up. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean for it to happen, i’m so stupid. i ended up giving you more work.”

and then, the fight in him dies out. maybe hongjoong just doesn’t want to see him at all. seonghwa feels sick. he closes his eyes and leans his head against the door. “please, i’ll leave you alone. just come home.”

his ears pick up the barest hint of a shuffle of papers… then it’s back to silence. he swallows past the lump in his throat. “there’s a cup of instant noodles on the floor. it’s for you… you must be hungry, so please eat.”

seonghwa picks himself up with great difficulty, spins around and hurries off, blinking away the tears. 

* * *

having sensed that seonghwa was down in the dumps, the other members got together for an impromptu movie session to lift his spirits.

yunho and jongho are currently snuggled up against him on the sofa, and they’ve got the notebook playing in the background but seonghwa can’t concentrate, mind and heart leagues away.

still hung up on hongjoong.

yunho scowls a little at the despondent sight, dipping into his pockets to find his phone. making sure he stays out of seonghwa’s sight, he types a hurried text to hongjoong, demanding his return.

apparently, threatening hongjoong with jongho’s muscles plus bodily harm on his laptop (and any others that he buys as replacements) works like a charm since he receives hongjoong’s answering text in under a minute. he should teach it to seonghwa some time, then they’ll be able to avoid all melodramatic messes in future.

by the time hongjoong steps into their dorm, yunho’s already up and corralling the others so the duo can hash things out. not that it’ll stop some of the troublemakers from trying to eavesdrop. “come on you,” he grips wooyoung tightly by the shoulder, steering him in the direction of the bedrooms.

“uh, hi?” hongjoong greets, waving a sweater paw. 

seonghwa sits still, drinking in the sight of hongjoong, eyes tracing his body carefully. hongjoong seems to be in pink health, barring the eyebags, so he nods once and goes back to his movie. “hey.”

out of his periphery, he can see hongjoong chewing on his lip. the uncertainty and hesitation makes hongjoong look smaller, so unlike the infallible leader with the larger than life persona that commands attention.

seonghwa watches him squirm for a bit more, and then caves. hongjoong looks so pitiable, it’s hard to resist the temptation of sweeping him up in a hug, but somehow he does. instead, he pats the empty seat beside him, which hongjoong takes gratefully. 

“i’m sorry,” hongjoong blurts out, pulling on the string of his hoodie. “i lost track of time.”

hongjoong’s being vulnerable for once, much to seonghwa’s surprise. he steals a careful glance at the other, heart lurching in his chest when hongjoong’s eyes bore into his own. 

“it’s fine?” seonghwa didn’t mean for his statement to come out as a question, but his nerves betray him.

hongjoong bobs his head. “listen…”

seonghwa closes in eyes in preparation for the verbal tongue lashing. hongjoong’s probably going to rip him a new one for deleting his work AND for being a massive, clingy pain in the ass.

“thanks.” 

seonghwa blinks, uncomprehending. “huh?” he asks brilliantly.

hongjoong laughs. “i know,” he looks at seonghwa fondly. “that you’ve been trying your best to make sure i don’t starve or overwork myself. mingi told me. and i saw the cup noodles. there wasn’t a note, but i knew it was you. and i'd have responded but i didn't hear you... i was plugged in. you know how i get when i'm in a groove, i can't hear anything _but_ the music. so. sorry, but also thanks.”

“ah, well, you shouldn’t be.” hongjoong tilts his head in confusion, and seonghwa rambles on. “if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have had to. i’m sorry. i promise to never touch your laptop again.”

feeling awkward and all sorts of awful, seonghwa turns his attention to the movie. “seonghwa,” hongjoong cajoles, carefully nudging his shoulder. “seonghwa. it’s not your fault, it was an accident.” 

seonghwa lashes back, furious. _why doesn’t hongjoong get it?_ “yeah, well, it was so don’t go telling me that - i’m not some kid that you have to coddle.”

“hey, _hey_ ,” hongjoong soothes. “it’s fine. it worked out in the end. to be honest, i wasn’t making any headway into the remix. sure, it was almost done, but it didn’t feel or sound _right._ you deleting the track was actually good - it got me to take a step back and rethink everything.”

seonghwa sniffles. “really? you aren’t just saying that to make me feel better?”

“really. you want dibs on the first listen?” hongjoong offers, eyes sparkling in excitement.

“... okay,” seonghwa agrees. “but.”

“but?” hongjoong falters. 

“can i get a hug? i-” seonghwa trails off as hongjoong settles his head in the crook of his shoulder, nuzzling in close. 

“i know it’s not a hug,” hongjoong says, red-faced. “but the angle is kind of awkward.”

seonghwa hums contentedly. “i’ll take it.”

"i'll make it up to you," hongjoong mumbles sweetly, eyelids drooping.

"that can wait," seonghwa snags a lone blanket and tosses it over them. "rest, hongjoong."

turns out, a sleepy, vulnerable hongjoong is a cuddly and truthful one. "mmm, you're comfy, the best pillow ever."

"thanks, i try." seonghwa chuckles. the movement jostles hongjoong lightly.

hongjoong hits him in reprimand. "don't move, talk later, sleep now."

"okay, goodnight hongjoong."

**Author's Note:**

> hongjoong (snaps awake after dozing for 5 minutes): shit, i forgot to upload the remix.
> 
> seonghwa: stay.
> 
> hongjoong (quails): okay, but only because you asked and i kind of owe you.
> 
> hi, thanks for all the support and love you've given my fics so far. you can now find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/joongles_) ^_^ let's be friends!


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